


Bid Your Time and Wait to Strike

by TheSilverHunt3r



Series: In this House, We Appreciate Whitley Schnee [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverHunt3r/pseuds/TheSilverHunt3r
Summary: Whitley Schnee had planned for becoming the heir, for taking over the SDC and subtly undermining his father's influence. But a White Fang assassination squad threw those plans out of the window.





	Bid Your Time and Wait to Strike

Summary: Whitley Schnee had planned for becoming the heir, for taking over the SDC and subtly undermining his father's influence. But a White Fang assassination squad threw those plans out of the window.

"I never tell anyone how clever I am. They'd be too scared."-Artemis Fowl, The Eternity Code

Father had a family portrait painted when Whitley was four. The child had yet to notice the somber gloomy atmosphere that occured when his father was around. He hadn't stopped smiling like the others. Whitley never did, but his smiles only grew more fake because of his stubbornness to give up a sign of the trace of happiness in the Schnee Mansion.

XXX

The bottles stood shamelessly on the circular patio table in the garden. They were organized haphazardly, as if by a mindless hand...or a clouded mind. 

Whitley still did not know what the bottles had contained. He did not know what alcohol was. For he was only five. But he knew they made Mother happy...and forgetful.

Sometimes Mother was like an actor after she drank two or more glasses from the bottles. She became like an entirely different person.

And sometimes Whitley was afraid of that new person. 

But other times, Mother was still there. It was as if she was sleepy, only able to focus for a few seconds. Like how Whitley was when he was very tired and wanted to go to sleep, when his eyes would close and his mind would go dark for a second.

Mother stopped calling him, "My darling," after Father came to the garden for the first time in years-when Whitley was eight. She started drinking more glasses of the stuff from the bottle. That other person... she acted like someone else more often. 

Soon, such actions as her not recognizing Whitley became common. She did not see him, so she did not call him "Her darling."

XXX

He was always a curious child, and he found it easy to steal and use one of his sister's scrolls for a few minutes. On impulse, he looked up the Schnee Dust Company.

He swept through stories-personal accounts and those related by journalists. The details about the conditions of faunus SDC workers was...appalling. From authority abuse-physical and emotional, to general negligence-except it was too common to just be negligence, it seemed more like purposeful ignorance and apathy. 

From an ethical standpoint, he found such actions horrendous. 

From a business standpoint, well, it might save them money? That was the point of such a racial double standard.

But he learned that the price from the cheaper labor were the damages caused by a terrorist group, the White Fang, and the corrupted reputation of both the Schnee name and the SDC. As well as the demotivation of their faunus workers which effected their work. And that price, in his opinion, was not worth the minor costs of having even wages for workers of the same skill who put in the same effort.

But...It wasn't like he would ever be able to change things. He would never be the heir-he had two older sisters.

Unless...they were disowned. No, scratch that uncertainty. His sisters were not businessmen, they loved having a flexible schedule and adventure. In all honesty, they would be ending up with the longer end of the stick here if they left.

His sisters couldn't be trusted with any knowledge as to his intent. For one, there were not subtle to say the least. And, two, they did not like him. The reason combined together meant it was a high risk for him to slip up at all around them, nevermind actually tell them.

Winter hightailed it to the Atlesian Army as soon as she became an adult. Her training had not been a secret, she had blatantly wanted to leave for years.

Weiss was a bit softer and more bratty, but still talented in combat. She wanted to be a huntress. After passing father's test with only a small wound, she left for Beacon. However, she was still the heir.

He would need to influence Weiss when she was running the SDC, push her towards pro-Faunus policies and good management habits. But, she was a brat. They constantly clashed and jabbed at each other.

It took over a year for Weiss to come back. 

XXX

After the Fall of Beacon, Atlas had ramped up security. But as the proud user of an illusion creating Semblance, avoiding the eyes of the camera and the crew of whatever vessel she chose to hitch a ride on were easy. They never caught a glimpse of brown and pink hair, her pink umbrella, or the red and black hat she wore.

Her white thigh high boots clicked on the sidewalk as she walked into an Atlas port town.

XXX

Two and a half weeks after the fall of Beacon, Whitley decided to make an appearance at Ironwood's office.

"Why are you here, Whitley? Do you want to see Miss Schnee?" Ironwood bluntly asked.

"General Ironwood," Whitley began, "I am here to offer you something you need." He had a neutral look on his face, no emotion to be see.  

Ironwood narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "And what is that?"

Whitley was perfectly still. He took a  breath, careful to not let any of his apprehension or excitement to be seen. "Cyber security," he stated politely.

XXX

Whitley slowly walked down the halls, pacing more like. He heard the click of high heels coming towards him. It was the sound of his recently returned sister's footsteps.

He decided to warn Weiss of father's temper. Partly because father being angry wouldn't help him, partly because she would might be more endeared to him, and partly...because she was his sister despite her going off to Beacon in an attempt to be a huntress.

When she sang at the charity event, Whitley clapped.  Whitley attempting to not burn his bridges ended up being somewhat of a waste a few minutes after that. Weiss did some incredibly stupid things. And she lost her position as heir.

Whitley could have thrown a personal celebration party for himself, he would now be able to directly influence the SDC. Instead, he pushed his concern-that was totally for himself as he was about to have to hold up his mask under father's scrutiny like never before, he denied that any of it was for his sister-to the back of his mind, focused on his glee and worked out the logistics of his plan.

He figured he had a few years to undermine his father and take over the Schnee Dust Company. About till he was an adult, eighteen. Once he had the main people under his thumb, he could change company policy without much backlash from the inside.

XXX

And then the White Fang decided to send an assassination squad. 

Whitley had almost forgotten about Murphy's Law.

There was pounding at Whitley's door. He woke with a grumble and opened it.

Klein stood outside, a worried look on his face. "The White Fang are on the grounds."

Whitley's face turned from annoyed to calculating. "They're probably here for father," he realized. He disappeared for a moment and returned with a coat-his scroll and his wallet already in the pockets-a messenger bag, and a pair of black sneakers. He slipped on the shoes as he decided, "We'll stop by the Armory first."

"The Armory?" Klein questioned. "Your life is in danger if they find you,  Mr. Whitley." He frowned.

"But if I run into them unarmed and with my Semblance still unlocked, I will die," Whitley calmly pointed out. 

Klein sighed. It could be wondered if his expression of resignation was due to the good argument presented or knowledge of the boy's stubborn will. Perhaps both. "Follow me Mr. Whitley."

The butler led his charge into a tapestry covered hole. After two minutes they arrived at a steel door, akin to vault doors one would see in banks.

Klein stood watch outside.

Whitley opened the Armory door just wide enough for him to slip inside. He gathered up several dust rounds and four raw dust crystals.

He looked for the repurposed wooden cigar box. It was an old thing. The cigar box smelled warm and inviting when Whitley opened it. The scent was vaguely familiar, from the one time as a child that he had met his grandfather.

Inside the box was a custom made velvet lined holder for two guns. His grandfather's side arm-a well worn revolver was colored dull grey with a brown leather grip. The outside of the chamber had nicks that had been filed into small round curves. The other was sleek shiny pistol with a black fauk leather grip. It appeared flawless, never used. Although Whitley was aware of the many times Father as a young man had fought with it.

He strapped the holsters to his thighs. One was the older type-made of leather. The second-the one he put on his right-was some sort of synthetic material with nylon linning and used velcro for the strap.

Whitley carefully picked the guns up and slotted them in. 

He didn't like physical violence, but he was a Schnee and he wasn't an idiot. He had taken several a course on shooting and proper gun maintenance.

He hurried to the entrance of the Armory and slipped out. It locked automatically behind him.

"I heard someone down the hall," Klein informed in a quiet voice. "We must go, now."

'No complaints here,' Whitley thought as he followed the butler.

After three turns, it was a straight shot forward for over half an hour. They emerged through a trap door into a small wooden shack.

Klein had placed the lantern on the floor to help Whitley up. It cast a bright ray of light around itself, but had no effect on the dark shadows that lurked in the corners. Klein picked the lantern up and the shadows retreated slightly.

"You need to go to the safe house in town," Klein advised. "That's the protocal for this sort of situation. It might be a long time before the Atlas Military arrives." He unfurled a map of the town with the safe house circled in blue, he rolled it back up and handed it to Whitley.

"I'd ask 'since when does my family have safe houses?' but I know the answer is 'since my father decided it was a great idea to mistreat the faunus'," Whitley snarked. It was an  unusual display of true emotion.

Klein gave a small smile.

"Stay alone in the small cold house and hope the faunus didn't get a hold of the blueprints? Or venture into the snow to get to town and find a place?" Whitley puzzled out. "I think I'll go with the snow actually."

"The town is south of here," Klein calmly informed. "Do you know which direction is south?"

"I'll figure it out." Whitley paused, his hand on the door to push to it open. He requested, "Please, take care of Mother. She is likely hiding in her bathroom cabinet, since her room is closer to Father's."

"Of course, Mr. Whitley," Klein promised. "You have my word."

XXX

The stars were fortunately bright tonight. He used them to figure out which direction he was heading.

He didn't want to draw Grimm to him. Dying in the cold, torn apart by Grimm, was not how he wanted to go. So Whitley worked on repressing the insidious gloomy feeling he had, until his stomach didn't churn with unease.

He needed to focus on something else. But all there was around him? Snow, snow...and more snow. He wanted a vacation in Vacuo after all do of this. Anything even slightly warm sounded wonderful right now. But then, someone in the dessert would likely want to switch places with someone in the frozen mountains. 

He saw the outskirts of town. He gave a large shiver and brushed the snow off of his shoulders before moving forward. 

The houses were lit with an inner warmth. Inside, families crowded around fires and their heating systems. Pure untouched snow thickly lined the roofs and street. Ice covered the bikes and cars left outside.

The town square had seen some life earlier that night, slight indentions in the snow from boots.

There were tracks in the snow, they belonged to a recently opened stall. The vendor, was an old man with a kind craggy face. He was bundled up in dark blue coat. 

Whitley bought a scalding hot chocolate from the vendor with a nod of thanks. He wrapped his icy hands around the styrofoam cup and sighed in relief at the heat.

Snow crunched under his feet as he crossed the town square. There was a metal street sign covered in frost. A lamppost lit it up, making the words legible. North Hems Street, the sign said.

Whitley pulled out his map and started towards the safe house.

The sun had risen. The snow had started to melt, slightly. Life stirred. Young men and older men getting ready for work. Mothers starting to get breakfast ready for her family. A few ecstatic children bounced around their house, too young to care about waking anyone up or bothering anyone who was busy.

The riffraff of the town had also waken up.

There were alleyways along the streets, small shady places among the brick building. They were the places the locals would duck into when there was a cold breeze blasting through the town. But they didn't go there at night, only during the day.

Whitley glanced into one of these holes. He spotted the three young men, and the petite woman further along in the alcove. He turned around and went the other way.

XXX

Unknown to Whitley, the woman was named Neo and actually a dangerous criminal from Vale. She had cast an illusion of herself and was about to attack the young men surrounding her illusion.

But suddenly there was a cry from the street. "Thief! That person stole a motorcycle! The red one!"

The men cursed and rushed out of the alleyway. The red motorcycle was one of theirs.

Neo broke the illusion.

A white haired boy wearing a snow white coat entered the alleyway.

Neo stared at him. Her left hand was still wrapped tightly against the umbrella handle, ready to fight.

"Are you alright, Miss?" Whitley asked.

Neo nodded, passed him, and started walking towards the entrance of the alcove.

'No thank you?' Whitley mused. 'Oh well, not like I was excepting a gift basket from her.' He almost grimaced at the sight of the three men returning. 'Well, s**t, Murphy's law appears for the second time this morning.'

Neo had stopped walking. She placed both hands on the handle of her pink lacy umbrella. The illusion of her shattered as she appeared behind her attackers. She thwacked the closest one in the side of his head, he went down. There was a smirk on her face, clearly visible. 

Whitley raised an eyebrow for a second. 'That's good, she's not helpless. Is she a huntress? Her eyes switched colors. Is her semblance illusion related? Or is teleportation and she leaves behind a temporary after-image?' These thoughts tumbled through his head along with others.

The second man approached Neo, a pocket knife in his hand. She ducked under a swing and quickly reversed her hold on her weapon, hooking the back of the man's knee and toppling him forward. She side stepped as he fell and desperately tried to grab her.

Neo hit the man who had fallen on the back of his head. And then there was one.

The man was staring at Neo, a horrified look on his face. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the person sneaking up behind him.

Whitley stood on his toes and bashed the man in the side of the head. Attacker number three dropped like a stone.

Neo blinked slightly at the interference, surprised. She had pretty much forgotten about the boy who had come back to check on her. Now that she thought about it, he was the same person who had shouted about the person stealing the bike. She didn't know how the kid managed it, or perhaps he just took advantage of an already occurring situation? Either way, he was starting to grow on her.

The attackers were unconscious and might...well probably would have concussions. But, there were no deaths, so there was that. All in all, Whitley thought his first real combat situation didn't go badly. He looked at the woman he had voluntarily partnered with over the past two minutes. "What's your name?" Whitley asked.

She used the tip of her umbrella to write something in the snow.

Whitley peered at the letters. "Neo? I am Whitley Schnee, heir to the SDC. Would you, by any chance, be interested in a bodyguarding job?" 

Neo smirked. She gave a slight dramatic bow that seemed to say, "Of course."

XXX

He came back with a young mute girl as a bodyguard. Whitley said her name was Neo.

Klein didn't know who she was, what she had done. But he saw the sharp glint in her eyes and smirk on her lips the first time she had to protect Mr. Whitley. The butler had seen her type before, observed that look from a distance. Miss Neo was someone who had seen terrible things and done terrible things. 

He had some private concerns about Miss Neo turning on Mr. Whitley. But it was not his place. And regardless of his other thoughts on Mr. Whitley, the boy was clever and probably had several specified plans about a possible betrayal form his newest hire.

Unknown to Klein for a few days, she had developed habit of secretly eating ice cream in the kitchen at night. He stumbled upon her while on his nightly rounds.

She had frozen, the fridge door open and a carton of ice cream in her hands.

"Sorry to intrude upon your midnight snack Miss," Klein politely said. He turned to leave. He stopped as an idea struck him, turning on his heel. "It's getting cold again," the butler mused. "Would you like some hot chocolate, Miss Neo?"

Neo cautiously nodded. She slid the ice cream back in and closed the fridge door.

XXX

The piano room was silently agreed by all in the Schnee Mansion to be Whitley's. He had practiced there for years, long winding complex songs that required all of his attention. 

He used to practice there, with his sisters accompanying him. Weiss singing. Winter playing on her prized violin and bow, the only things aside from her weapons that she had taken when she left. Then, Whitley's feet barely touched the foor, he used the tips of his shoes to touch the pedals

Now, Whitley sat on the sleek black bench. He was running through several pieces, as was his routine in the morning. The only calluses on his hands were on the bottom of his finger pads, from hours of brushing against polished white and black keys.

He caught a flicker of something outside of his peripheral vision. He stopped playing and looked towards the disturbance, pulling out his scroll and signing it.

"Neo," Whitley greeted. 

The illusion of no one being there disappeared. Neo put an elbow on front of the piano. There was a slight smile on her face, she did enjoy classical music, and playing a version of 'hide and seek' with Whitley was fun. She had an eyebrow raised, curious as to what he wanted.

"According to the Atlas Military's files:  
Neopolitan, the name of Roman Torchwick's mysterious partner. She carries a pink umbrella and has some sort of illusion Semblance. MIA. She hasn't been seen since the Fall of Beacon, when Torchwick was killed by the Grimm he had helped bring into the city." Whitley's tone was bored, unimpressed. That of a student forced to read an uninteresting history passage in class. 

Neo's eyes widened and she straightened up, taking her elbow off the piano. Her fingers shot towards her pocket, where her scroll was. Her lips tightened into a thin line. She frantically typed out a message. 'What did you say he died from?'

"A Grimm," Whitley repeated. He zoomed in on the words and turned his scroll towards her.

Neo's eyes filled with rage. Her teeth were bared in a silent snarl. If she could scream, she would have. The knife in her heart twisted. She felt as if someone had ignited fire dust in her chest, a large burning mass that urged her to slit Cinder's throat, break a chair, do something. Just do something to ease the anger, ease the pain. Cinder had caused this. Cinder's plan had gotten Roman killed.

A hand gently, hesitantly touched her shoulder.

"Neo?" Whitley asked gently, carefully. As if his bodyguard would shatter at his touch, as fragile as her illusions. He had a frown on his face. A sinking feeling was in his stomach, the type one had when flung into a large dark place and expected the worst thing to come out of the shadows. 

Neo's shoulder's sagged. The anger had mostly died out. This brought up too many memories. Roman would be like this whenever something bothered her and he noticed. He would just turn to her and ask quietly, "Neo, what's wrong?"

What was in her memories was repeated, but by a different voice. Whitley bite his lip. "Neo, what's wrong?"

She cried. Neo couldn't sob, but if she could, the room would be full of the cries and sobs of a woman mourning the death of her only family member left. A dreadful, loud sound it would have been. And for that moment Neo was grateful she was mute, she already had one person witnessing her lack of composure. And that was already one more then she wanted. She used her fingers to wipe away the small droplets trying to trickle down her cheeks.

Whitley was mentally panicking. In the way any person who felt awkward with someone crying in front of them and having no idea what to do has felt. He hesitated, then hesitated again, and slowly brought his bodyguard into a hug. He already regretted it, but he would prefer this then just standing there. 

Eventually, she stopped. Neo huffed and slipped out from under Whitley's hug. She turned her face away,  until she could be certain the illusion she had cast over it wouldn't shatter.

Whitley cleared his throat. He had folded his hands behind his back. A gesture of awkwardness, and closer to where his grandfather's revolver was.   "My...apologies for upsetting you. That wasn't the point of me bringing up your past."

Neo glared at him slightly. 'Then why?' Was written clearly on her face.

Whitley raised an eyebrow and  
"I wanted to know why you were in Atlas, and your arguments as to why. I should still harbour an assumed to be deceased Vale fugitive in my house."

Neo rolled her eyes. She quickly typed out her response. 'Because I could sneak in here anytime and kill you without anyone noticing? And no one is looking for me, since I'm MIA.'

"Death threats?" Whitley almost clicked his tongue in disappointment. 'Honestly, you think I didn't prepare for the possibility of you trying to kill me? I met you a week and a half ago, I've known you're a criminal since hour twenty six,' he mentally scoffed. He lazily waved a hand in dismissal. "Anyways, why are you here?"

'...Running,' Neo admitted with a frown. 'Trying to make a new life.'

"And yet the first thing you do when someone questions you, is threaten them with death?" Whitley wryly pointed out, a slight smirk on his face.

Neo rolled her eyes.

XXX

The funeral of Jacques Schnee was a somber, apathetic event.

Mother went, his face perfectly sculpted into something that looked sorrowful. She hadn't drunk any wine that morning. Any emotion on her face was more likely about the horrible headache she probably had.

Winter had outright refused to come, she could have if she wished. She used the excuse of 'important military business'. Winter had likely requested a short mission in the middle of nowhere, Ironwood delivered.

Weiss's location...was currently unknown. Last Whitley heard, she was in Mistral.

Whitley, unlike his siblings, attended. 

'Did you care for him?' Neo questioned.

"No. I hold no sympathy for him," Whitley curtly replied. "My only regret about my father's death is that he did not die sooner. We all would have been far happier then."

XXX

He was the heir, and both of his sisters had been disowned. But he was not of age. His mother was officially put in charge until he was an adult.

Not that it stopped him. If anything, he now had free reign to do as he liked with company policy. After a cursory glance, Mother would always agree. Any mistakes in the new policies with would be seen as her own failings. While large victories would be hers as well.

But Whitley was fine with being the man behind the curtain. He could stomach pulling the strings necessary to keep the show going. Or as in this case, the upper echelons of the Schnee Dust Company sated-aside the new faunus policies he was currently drafting-and company profits soaring.

XXX

Whitley had just finished his last piece of homework. He had a satisfied smile as he stretched his arms.

An unseen force pushed his textbooks to the side. A large marble slab appeared on his desk, along with Neo who sat on the opposite side of the desk. The pieces were

Neo pushed a white pawn forward.

Whitley decided to indulge his bodyguard. Maybe it would be an enjoyable match. Regardless, he was going to go easy, he could always go to be serious later.

After six turns, Whitley dragged his gaze from his chess pieces to Neo.  
"You're cheating," he accused.

Neo blinked innocently at him. 'What?' She taped out on her scroll.

Whitley pushed a bit of aura into his finger tips and flicked the area above a black square. The illusion shattered into nothingness.

Neo stuck out her tongue. She crossed her arms and huffed.

Whitley snorted. "You're the one who tried to cheat," he reminded. He moved his recently returned rook to take one of her pawns. "Check," he announced.

XXX

During his visits to the garden and his mother, he noticed something. Mother was drinking less.

The observation made him...happy. A true childlike glee he thought he had forgotten how to have pass the age of five. He was unable to resist the feeling. A small sincere, warm smile curled his lips upwards.

XXX

Whitley had to go shopping. He had recently noticed that he had gone through a growth spurt. 

Neo came with him, her coat and black leggings had started to fray. 

Whitley was making his way through trying on a pile of suits. He was interrupted by the appearance of Neo.

She tapped him on the shoulder and  held up a long dark blue duster coat. It had polished brass buttons with the stamp of Atlas's crest. 

Whitley didn't know what she wanted. Although he had sneaking suspicion as to what it was. "What?" He warily asked.

Neo thrust the objects of clothing towards him, with an expectant look.

Whitley examined his bodyguard's face, determining how far she would push this. Luck was not on his side today. He had to at least try it on. Whitley announced his surrender with sigh. He tugged it on. It fell to a few inches his ankles and was slightly big around the shoulders. He shrugged and slipped it off of himself.

Somehow by the next second, Neo had it back in her hands.

"Neo," he warned.

She folded her arms and stared at him. She typed out a quick message on her scroll, 'it's a good coat.'

Whitley mentally sighed. It wasn't like he didn't have the money to waste on it. If he still didn't like it in a day or so, he could always have it burned or donated in secret. (He never did.)

A good hour later, they left the store.

Neo got few things. A new pair of black pants, that were a slightly more formal cut but still stretchy and good for fighting. A soft pink half sleeve shirt. Her new white coat had light blue buttons and lined pockets, she put it on immediately after leaving the shop.

Whitley ended up with several vests, button ups, pants...and a blue duster coat. 

XXX

Whitley had been once again convinced into a close combat training session. He was rethinking that impulse of the moment decision.

Neo's umbrella hooked around Whitley's elbow, she pulled. She smirked as the boy stumbled. She took a step back as he swung his right towards her face. She blocked the punch with her umbrella, then whipped her weapon towards him.

Whitley clumsily tripped himself out of the umbrella's path. He turned his head-he did not want to break his nose-and his cheek impacted with the ground. He groaned, he could already feel the bruise forming. Whitley peeled his head off the floor.

He almost yelped as he saw an umbrella moving towards his head. Whitley rolled to the right. He shot to his feet and put his clenched hands up in defense. An umbrella slammed against his fists. He slid his right foot backward, bracing himself against the force of the blow. 

A fist snaked under his arms and hit his diaphragm. Whitley choked and grimaced at the lack of air. The urge for air drove out any other thought. He gasped and inhaled. While he did, an umbrella hooked around the back of his knee and tugged. 

On instinct, Whitley jabbed his elbows beneath him. His fall halted. A white glyph formed underneath Whitley, flickered, then disappeared. His elbows slammed into the grass and dirt. He groaned. He stopped holding himself up and allowed his head to touch the blanket of grass. 

An umbrella handle entered his field of vision. He tilted his head forward. Neo had reappeared.

"If I stand up, are you going to hit me again?" Whitley dryly asked.

She smirked and typed out a word on her scroll. She leaned forward over him and showed the screen to him. 'Dodge.'

Whitley sighed. "I'm going to regret agreeing to this, tomorrow." He blinked at the sky and then turned his gaze back to Neo. "Never mind, I already am."

XXX

Whitley was stiff, unmoving, as he waited for his mother's response. His back was ramrod straight in the white patio chair.

Bees and butterflies flirted around the many kinds of flowers that surrounded the small square of grass. The square held a circular white table and the two matching white metal chairs.

Mother trailed a finger along a sentence of the order. She was slightly drunk, and seemed to only be able to keep her place among the paragraphs by marking her progress with her index finger.

Whitley refused the urge to fidget. He didn't want to distract her. 

The order was...radical, to say the least. Amidst the jargon was the declaration of even wages between Faunus and humans, of abuse of the  Faunus not being allowed, and of future inspections of the mines and factories to enforce it.

Mother finished reading. She put the thing stack of papers down gently. She seemed have sobered up. Her gaze was sharper, more alert, as she looked at Whitley. She smiled at him. "Good job, darling. I fully approve."

XXX

Whitley shot Neo. The illusion broke under the bullet's force. He slotted another dust bullet into his revolver and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He barely dodged the suddenly visible pink umbrella. Whitley punched the air where the illusion was. The formerly empty space shattered into shards that quickly disappeared.

A kick was aimed for Whitley's chest, he backed up a step. He continued to back up, not wanting to be hit by Neo's heels. He kept track of her kicks, the timing and pace. He took a breat, stopped moving, and and turned sideways. Her heel glided past his nose. Whitley smirked slightly as he jabbed her in the solar plexus.

Neo gasped silently at the pain. She scowled and quickly smacked her still extended foot into the side of his head.

Whitley groaned and cradled his head. Well, at least he had landed a hit. That was progresss.

XXX

Mistral had been attacked by Grimm and the White Fang. Some huntsmen and Faunus militia defended the city, successfully. The Headmaster of Haven Academy, Lionheart, died in the battle.

Whitley smirked. Well, general Atlesian opinion would certainly sway his way after the Faunus militia was handsomely credited with saving the kingdom of Mistral from destruction.

But...there was more. There had to be more.

He needed to know the full story behind events like Vale's and Mistral's attacks. The real details. Why it was done.  Who were the main players. And the what. What the h**l actually happened. 

Not the perspective of documentaries or the sugar coated faulty account created by the media whose agenda was to keep the populus feeling happy and secure as to ensure their survival from the Grimm. No, Whitley wanted the full and unadulterated truth. Which is why he found several reputable information brokers and asked them for accounts of things.

He put the accounts together, along with Weiss's own report she had gave to Father. He looked for common threads.

Neo came in while he was doing this. She frowned at the Vale board with scraps of paper and small pictures of the main people involved. 

'What are you doing?' She typed out and showed him.

"I've been putting together what really happened in Mistral. What they aren't saying on the news. Something is up. Something else is going on. Someone is pulling strings behind the scenes. But I don't know who yet."

Neo frowned and cocked her head at him inquisitively. 

"It's a good business practice-to know what's going on in the world. Actually, would you have any idea about things, Neo?"

'Cinder is the one who managed the attack on Vale. But she's not the one who ordered it.' Neo slowly typed out the last part, she seemed apprehensive. 'That'd be the one in charge of Cinder. That was Salem. I'd bet a lot of lien she is responsible for Mistral's attack too.'

Whitley leaned in slightly, his hands folded neatly behind his back. "Who's Salem?"

'Queen of the Grimm. Enemy of humanity.'

Whiltey's eyes widened for a second, truly shocked. "An intelligent, clever being that controls the Grimm. Wanting to end humanity. That...makes sense, it fits." He laced his hands together behind his back and leaned forward slightly with a serious look on his face. "I would appreciate it if you tell me what you know."

XXX

Today, they were sparring in the garden. If one went from the kitchen and used the garden pathway, you would see a small opening in one of the hedges. If you were to enter, as Whitley often did when he was younger, you would find a pleasant mixed patch of green grass and yellow star shaped flowering weeds.

Sweat was dripping down Whitley's face. He did not enjoy the feeling. His left hand held onto Neo's umbrella and his fist hit Neo's diaphragm twice in succession. A smile spread across his face for a second. The sweat was tolerable for the warm glow of progress and success. Momentarily distracted, Whitley then immediately got decked in the face by Neo and hit the floor. 

Neo smirked at him and extended her umbrella handle towards him. If she could laugh, she would be right now. Instead, her shoulders shook slightly with it and no sound escaped her throat.

He snorted and accepted the help. 

Neo pulled him to his feet. She froze for a moment, straightening up. She shot a gaze towards the entrance in the hedge and disappeared. 

Whitley noticed the click of heels on the stone pathway. He frowned and his left hand inched towards his father's old gun.He raised an eyebrow in question as Winter stood in the opening and carefully stepped onto the grass.

"You've been training," Winter cooly observed. "But you hate any physical activities."

"There was an increase in people who want my head. I thought it a prudent decision to make taking it harder," Whitley snarked. He put his hands behind his hand and walked over. "So, sister, why are you here?"

"Are you the one who's in charge of the SDC?"

Whitley chuckled. "I am a minor, Winter. Mother is the person-"

"Cut the bull," Winter interrupted. "You're...clever. If you wanted to run things unofficially, you could without a person noticing.

Whitley sighed. "There's a hole in this confrontation plan of yours. Because, if I was, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Because running a company, especially a large one, is hard. I'm here for you. Whether you need someone to rant to, or just someone to help take your mind off things."

"You're here for me? You've never been there for me, Winter!"

"I know. I'm sorry. I took the only way out I could see. I'm sorry you and Weiss got left behind with him. But, he is gone and I'm here now. We...could start over. If you want to."

XXX

Whitley pulled out his scroll that night.

Whitley: Alright.

Whitley: You win.

Whitley: Father liked us fractured.

Whitley: I'd prefer for him to be rolling in his grave.

Winter: Okay.

Winter: Would you like to get coffee together?

Winter: Or tea, if you like that better.

Whitley: Coffee...

Whitley: Sounds good.

Whitley: Tomorrow at eight?

Winter: Sure, I'll pick you up.

XXX

Neo: How is it going?

Whitley: Better then I hoped.

Neo: Answer the question.

Whiltey: It's going well.

Neo: ^^ 

XXX

Whitley was going to check out whether concerning rumors were true about an associate of the Schnee Dust Company. Hence, they were on an incognito trip. This meant thick scarves around their necks and jaw, hats pulled down low, and an illusion cast over their hair to turn it black.

He wasn't planning on wearing that duster coat. But after they left the shack, the illusion shattered. Whitley shot a glare at his bodyguard.

Neo giggled.

It was kind of too late to turn back now. Whitley sighed and continued to trudge through the light coating of snow. At least the coat kept him warm.

The town was...not exactly full of life, but wasn't deserted. There was a person or two on each block. Some were vendors. Some were friends and family talking to each other.

The snow in the middle of the street had been turned to a dark grey sludge from the traffic. Two grandmas were knitting a large sweater on the stone steps of a nearby house. 

Whitley turned right, Neo followed. There was a large alleyway behind the houses of this street. It was a place where people usually didn't go. A few items had been abandoned here, wooden crates, card board boxes, and the odd decaying peel of fruit.

Three people were approaching from the opposite side of the alleyway. 

The two groups stopped about five feet from each other. They locked gazes. The tense atmosphere broke as  Yang lunged for Neo with a furious yell. 

Neo smirked and the illusion fell. She expertly deflected and avoided Yang's attacks. That only made the blond more angry and her punches more wild.

"We need back up," Ruby quickly decided. She pulled out her phone and called Weiss. 

"Well, I guess negotiations are temporarily out of the window with them," Whitley muttered. "So,  you," he gestured at Oscar, "Are we going to have to fight?"

In answer, Oscar pulled out his cane. In his head, Ozpin cautioned, 'Stay on your guard. He may be around your age, but he might still be dangerous."

"Guess that's a yes." Whitley pulled out his grandfather's revolver and flicked off the safety. He smirked as Oscar charged straight for him. 

Ruby joined her sister, fighting against Neo. But the fight seemed to be impossible. They hadn't landed a hit on the real Neo. The pink and brown haired woman was a cloud. Impossible to hit and when you tried you only got a handful of water vapor. In Neo's case, a bunch of intangible shards that quickly dissipated.

Whitley cursed under his breath as a gloved hand hit his jaw twice. He returned the hits in kind with a jab to the solar plexus. 

Oscar groaned in pain. He went down on one knee and clutched at his chest. His cane was still extended, ready to deflect an attack.

Two steps of footsteps quickly approached the alleyway entrance.

"Whitley?" Weiss asked, shocked. She entered, Blake behind her.

"Sister." Whitley nodded towards Weiss. A slightly wry twisted his lips up. "I'd like to point out the fact your friend attacked us unprovoked and we defended ourselves."

"Unprovoked, sure! She's a criminal!" Yang protested. She glared at Neo.

New smirked and pointed at herself, mockingly innocent. "Me?" The gesture said.

Oscar got to his feet. He retracted his cane but still kept it in his hand.

"She is a hard working Atlesian citizen, my bodyguard," Whitley objected. He frowned, pondering. "She is a criminal in Vale," he agreed. "But, the government of Vale's not exactly around in a position to enforce any sort of punishment, or confinement. So that's bit of a moot point."

"You!" Yang fumed. She stepped towards him. 

Neo appeared between the two, her umbrella raised. Her smirk had disappeared, replaced by a cool gaze.

Whitley sighed. "I was not trying to insult you, Miss Xiao-Long," he explained. "I was merely stating the facts of Neo's legal status." 

"Whitley, what's going on?" Weiss asked. "Why do you need a bodyguard?"

Whitley paused. He recalculated his prediction on what the group knew of recent Atlas events. "You...didn't hear? You don't know?"

Weiss pursed her lips. "No? What is it?" She warily asked.

"Father died in a White Fang attack, about two months ago," Whitley explained. "Mother is the temporary CEO until I'm eighteen."

Weiss dropped to the ground. Her knees hit the cold dirty snow. "Oh," she numbly said.

"Sister?" Whitley questioned. He took a step towards her. 

"I'm...fine. Just shocked." Weiss accepted the hand up from Blake. She brushed away the droplets of water on her legs from the melted snow.

Whitley dipped his head. "Alright. Well," he smiled slightly, "I do believe we have enough room at the mansion for all of us. Or do you have somewhere to stay figured out already?"

Weiss looked at Oscar. The boy nodded, communticating Ozpin's agreement. She turned back to her brother. "There's a few more of us," Weiss informed. 

Whitley already knew that. "Perfectly fine." 

XXX

Whitley heard the opening of the door and several footsteps. He didn't look up. "My apologies for not seeing you all at lunch."

Weiss walked in, followed by her friends. "Why are you in Father's office? Mother-"

Whitley cut her off with a shake of his head. "Sister, Mother is still an alcoholic and knows little about day-to-day management of the SDC. Fortunately, I have neither of those traits." He paused, scrutinizing his sister's expression. "She does trusts my judgement, but she also looks at and approves each order I send out.

"Now, why are you all here?" Whitley smirked slightly and put down the folder he had been holding. He leaned forward with an eyebrow raised.

"What? Um, because you invited us?" Ruby asked, confused.

"No, Miss Rose, I mean what you all are here to do in Atlas. Perhaps I should just ask one person in particular this question." Whitley looked directly at Oscar. "Mr. Ozpin, what does your group hope to accomplish in Atlas?"

The group tensed. Several hands drifted towards their weapons.

Oscar frowned, his eyes wide. He almost panicked, but Ozpin calmed him down before he could. He took a breath and conveyed Ozpin's question. "How do you know?"

"I went through some Haven Academy files. A large burly man in the courtyard screaming "Ozpin!" was a bit of a give away," Whitley sarcastically revealed. "So, what is your band of hunters wanting to do? It must be something rather big." 

Oscar handed over control to Ozpin. His eyes glowed gold for a moment.  
"We plan to talk to Ironwood," he revealed. His tone was soft, but stern.

The problem with talking to Ironwood was that you had to find him first. The General moved around from city to city on a regular basis, partly for his own safety and partly because of his military duties. Unless you were in the Atlas Military, even the rumors of where Ironwood was were hard to come by.

Whitley smiled. "Well, it's your lucky day," he commented. "I can get you to him." 

Ozpin doubted it would be out of the goodness of their host's heart. "In return for what?" He calmly asked.

"Tell me what you know about what's going on," Whitley requested. "Summarize if you have to. And, Weiss, come back after you take of the relic, see mother. She...has been getting better."

"Where is she?" Weiss questioned. She had checked the garden, no one was there.

Whitley shrugged. "At an event."

Ozpin sat down in one of the desk chairs. He crossed an ankle over his knee. His cane was leaned at the arm of the chair, his hand on the pommel. "What do you want to know?" 

Whitley moved his right hand in a seemingly casual gesture. It was a signal to his invisible bodyguard to be ready in case things got...heated. He spoke slowly, pointedly. "I want to know the full story of what's going on. I want to know about the Grimm. I want to know about the attacks on Vale and Mistral. I want to know, about Salem."

Whitley sighed as he glanced around the room. "She really does exist. That is unfortunate. Is there anything important to know about her except she wants to kill off humanity?" He sighed again and decided to throw out of his predictions. "And please don't tell me she's immortal. That'd be rather annoying." Whitley grimaced. "She is? Well, that is a bit of a problem."

"You're a very clever person, Mr. Schnee," Ozpin complimented. He smiled. "Do you have a favorite fairytale by any chance?" 

XXX

The three siblings stared at each other.

Whitley politely coughed. 

Weiss bit her lip. She awkwardly suggested, "So, since we're all here, should we do something...together?"

Winter smiled slightly. "That sounds lovely. Any ideas?"

Whitley chuckled. "I'd propose chess, but that is only two players." He gestured with a hand and held two fingers up.

"Actually, that could work," Weiss  "How about Winter and I together?"

"Two against one? How is that fair?" Whitley teased. 

Winter shook her head. "I think we will need all the help we can get against you."

Five minutes later

Whitley whistled happily as he took the white queen with a bishop. 

Weiss growled something under her breath.

Winter glared at the board. If the pieces weren't marble, and instead wood, there's a possibility they would have burst into flame.

"I regret agreeing to this," Weiss stated. She slumped back into her chair.

"Yes, I'm remembering why we  refused to play chess with him," Winter agreed. 

Whitley chuckled. 

Twenty minutes later they were in the piano room. They had one hobby that bound all of them together, music.

Winter had fetched her violin case from the car. She pulled out her instrument. She rested her bow on the clear strings and lightly glided it across. 

At the piano nearby, Whitley ran through an octave. He tested the piano keys that had gotten more unused after Father died and his responsibilities increased.

Weiss warmed up her voice. She was hesitant at first, but quickly relaxed.  
The clear, pure notes of a talented soprano poured through the room.

Mrs. Schnee sat in her garden. Her eyelids fluttered open. She listened, and smiled. It had been a long time since she had heard her children play together.

XXX

Whitley cocked his head slightly. "So, you want Cinder dead to avenge your partner's death?" He asked to clarify.

Neo put down her scroll and nodded.

He laced his fingers together and smirked. "Well, I think that can be arranged. It sounds like fun."

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Whitley was inspired by Artemis Fowl, if I remember correctly. For Artemis, he had Butler as his trusted friend, partner, and muscle, without the backup he would have been pretty sunk. Pretty sunk, in this case, means dead.  
> 
> For Whitley, Klein was the only person in canon close to filling that role-as he was already the family butler. However, he seemed to not really...like Whitley. So I read a few RWBY fanfics and  found some fanart. I ended up choosing Neo. She's a mischievous but loyal person, with great combat skills and semblance. Added to that, in volume 6 chapter 5 she seems to blame Cinder and be angry with her. So, in an AU where she went to Atlas instead of Mistral, perhaps she would team up with Whitley to revenge.
> 
> This was supposed to be about just a genius mastermind kid. It turned into a Neo and Whitley friendship AU. But hey, I'm fine with that. (;
> 
> -Silver


End file.
